


Love You To Death

by MorganaCraven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Character Death, F/M, If Sansa had gone with Sandor, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganaCraven/pseuds/MorganaCraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escaping from Blackwater could only last for so long, now Sansa and Sandor run from the one that could only stop them, The Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

               Strangers hooves sounded like thunder upon the snowy ground with the mix of red leaves as they raced through the forrests filled with the blood topped trees. It had been a week since she had accepted to leave Kings Landing with him, a week that had started with tremoulous shyness and unfounded anger on his part. It had begun to rain the night they had left, the only mount for them both was his horse sent from the Stranger himself, thus his name for his demon-like demeanor. They had little time to rest, nowhere to do so and had to hide away from any villages, mostly away from the Kingsroad. By the third night the Bird had been shivering between his arms, coughing and asking him,no pleading, for a place to rest. A dry enough place had been found beside a rock face and the shelter of thick leaved trees. He had watched her life nearly slip away had he not found a herb his maester had taught him would cure any chill induced fevers.

      One more night was spent in their improptu shelter, her fevered whispers whimpering between pleas of no more of the beatings, asking for Arya, or begging her father back to life. In his arms he took her, cradled her to his chest as he tried to soothe her, swearing he would protect her no matter the cost. "I'd rather fight the  Stranger himself before he tears me from you Bird" he whispered, thinking that through her fevered haze she would not hear him but she had. As dawn awoke them with clean air, a spread of muddy ground for them to travel on, he looked down to find her river blue eyes thanking him silently. "I-I am alright now" she croaked as he could only caress her cheek, press his lips to her crown to feel the fever gone. "I'll not push you so hard for the rest of the journey but we must get to Riverrun before the week is over" he rasped as he set her on her feet. Even with the smudges of mud on her face, and her now short hair, she looked like a bloody nymph, making him feel weak to the marrow of his bones and being grateful for it through and through.  _No better master could I have chosen but a foolish child._

           As they rode she had spoken very suddenly after a long morning of thought, "I want to learn to do what you do, build a fire and forage". He had looked down at her with a raised brow ,"Why would the little lady want to get her hands dirty?", he said in a mocking tone. " I only want to be useful, I don't want to be a stupid little girl anymore" she said with a fierce expression as she looked at his face directly, her saphire blues staring into him defiantly. "You look at me now, do you?" was his gruff response as he only clicked Stranger forward. That same night he had taught her how to build a fire. She had flinched several times as she hit her thumb and forefinger with the stone, harumphed when no spark was created and almost gave up until he could stand no more of her little sounds, showing her how to start it correctly. A slight smile overcame her features as she created a spark, "Give me that bird before I freeze my balls off", he said snatching away the stones, stoking the small weak flame with a few pieces of dry wood he had been lucky enough to find. Sansa only frowned at the ease with which he managed the fire, his nervousness palpable as he had built it, taking care to keep his face away, prefering to blow at the tiny spark from a slight distance. A bed roll was set and she had promptly set herself to lay upon it, only shivering slightly until his cloak was draped over her, the smell of blood and fire still upon it. "Sandor?" she asked amidst the fire crackling and night noise. A 'hmm" was pronounced, awaiting whatever she was to say. "Would you really rather prefer fighting the Stranger than me not being here?" she asked after a while. 

Her answer was a few soft snores.

 

 

* * *

 By the end of the week they had made it to a warm inn, his gold from the tourney allowing them a bath and a change of clothing, warm food and spiced wine. Apparently many were travelling away from the effects the Blackwater Battle had caused, so the inn was full and no matter how many more coins he offered, the inn keeper would refuse to move any of the other patrons as they were also paying for their stay with enough coin. Sansa said nothing as he had announced that in the end he could not buy another room. Her answer was a slight nod and a brisk walk directly to the bed. A groan was heard from him upon seeing no other place to rest his head. Retrieving the bedroll from their baggage he set it beside the large bed, nursing a flagon of wine while she lay on her side looking into the flames. "I'll get you to yer soft feather beds soon Bird, and you can sleep easy, I have no interest in fucking yer highborn cunt" he spit as he noticed her reluctance to sleep. "My lord please don't- " "I'm no lord girl, stop your chirping and shut those eyes". Silence stretched tensely between them, but sleep soon claimed her. 

She was in Kings Landing again, in front of Joffrey. His crossbow was ponting at her, and pain seemed to pass through her body. Looking down, her eyes caught her blood drenched gown, quarrels pierced through her arms and thighs as she kneeled before him. "No please, please don't I beg of you no more" she pleaded weakly as his wormy lips smiled at her pain. "Hound, Sandor please please tell him to stop!" she yelled as the quarrel was released, traveling towards her very eyes. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, her voice crying out as she opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision until Sandor came to focus, his gentle gray eyes looking deeply into hers, "Sansa, it was a dream" he rasped as his hands tightened around her arms.

Realizing she was safe, her arms shot out to his neck as her sobs wracked her body, a deep ache settling in her chest with fear. One hand caressed the back of her head, his fingers caressing the short locks. Another hand soothed her back while whispering that she was safe. "I'm safe with you" she said after her sobs had ended, whispering her confession into his good ear. Backing away from his neck, he closed the distance, setting his forehead level with hers. Her tully eyes looked at him, all of him with tenderness he didn't remember seeing in anyone but his dead sister from long ago. "You are little bird" he whispered back as he kissed her tears away and landed one last kiss on her forehead. "I'll make Robb and mother see that when we arrive" she answered as her hands settled softly on his forearms.

He had barely had any sleep as he maintained a vigil over her, holding her hand while he did. That was the last night she had any nightmares, and the last night he had made any snide or spiteful remark to her.  _Some dogs are bark and no bite, and she's made one of me_ he mused as her sweet face remained peaceful. Who was he lying to? He would always remaing a tame beast, only snarling at her when she wanted to pet him. Her courtieses had come as a shock when all the other highborn women including Cersei had treated him for what he was, a Dog. He had hated that, her chirping becoming almost an insult to what he was and had never been, a gentlemen, or lordling or whatever she believed him to be. He was no knight, yet she refused to speak to him any other way. To others and even to him she had seemed nothing but a stupid girl with dreams and songs in her head and yet that was what made her strong. Her belief that there was more light than dark in the world. A surprising thought considering she was born in a land full of cold and lifelessness and yet she was a summer child.  

He would have to give her up soon, but meanwhile he would look upon her fire kissed locks, fair skin and cherry lips.

 

 

* * *

As they traveled even further, everything had gone much easier. She told him odd stories from her childhood and he recanted the less darker ones from his. That night had been the last peaceful one they would have. They had sat around the fire she had built, her feathers ruffled with pride at the small flickering thing. The cold had a strange way of luring them together so they had set their backs to a fallen tree, shoulder to shoulder unhis cloak, bearing the cold wind as it blew softly around them. "It smells of Winterfell" she remarked as the sweet smell of pine and wet dirt filled her nostrils. He looked at her placid profile, her lips holding a slight smile, her features softened by the light of the fire. "You'll be there soon, with yer brothers, the warm springs and whatever the fuck there is in that place", his voice grinding out the singing of a cricket here and there. Her soft hand reached for his and wrapped itself around his calloused paw. "All thanks to you", she sighed and filled her lungs with more cool air, preparing herself for the next words she was about to say. "I heard you speak when I was ill. You said you would fight the Stranger, before he took me from you" she said quickly as she blushed and looked into the fire. "Why did you say that?"

He sighed, placing his fingers below her chin and turning her eyes towards him. "Mayhap it don't matter much Bird, but this old battle worn Dog wants to see you safe because that's what you deserve, not that sick fuck of a King, nor being beaten bloody for simply wanting to be free, yer a bird and birds need the sky to flutter here and there. You'll be with some handsome lord and have pups of yer own, run a house and whatnot" he trailed off as he looked at her eyes filled with tears. "I want you there for all that Sandor" her hand tightening as she said that. "No bird, I won't watch you with another man, standing outside your door while he fucks you, nor when you bear his pups" he remarked angrily as he tore his paw from her little claw. His burned side was to her, a scowl making it twist awfully as his ruined mouth twitched angrily. "You foolish old Hound" she whispered as she set herself on her knees in front of him. His eyes narrowed slightly as she smiled shyly, her eyes freely roaming both sides of his face. He was strong, gentle when he wanted to be but above all he wanted her safe not because of a claim, or lands or whatever the other men wanted for her but because that what he thought she deserved, to live well. To live safely.  To live how she wanted to. "Alright then I shall live my days an old maid and sing to pass the time to please the ferocious Hound" she japed for the first time since  Jeyne. "Not if I have a say in it" he remarked as he cradled her face between his large paws. He knew how it would be if he did stay. She would marry and spread her mikly thighs for the lord she married and for him, whenever she could spair the time. She would give birth to pups both hound and wolve. But she would never be his truly. "Maybe Robb can make you a lord" 

He chuckled at her silly notions, "Aye bird, songs and fairy tales spewing from that pretty beak" he said as he pressed his ruined mouth to her tenderly. Her hands touched his wrists gently as she pressed her lips into his. His tongue ventured tentavily against her seam, a soft gasp on her part and his tongue was softly caressing hers. She smiled shyly as their tongues caressed rythmically. He stopped before he compromised her honor and separated himself only enough to see her eyes shut, a dreamy expression glowing upon her. "My little bird", he said and smirked  as she opened her eyes. He opened his legs, welcoming her into his arms and the warmth of the cloak. As she settled against his chest, her back to his front, he whispered into her ear "If you become mine, you will be mine alone, spread your legs, bear my pups and sing only for me".

A shiver ran through her, from her neck to the place betwixt her thighs. "Then perhaps I will" she answered as she leaned further into him closing her eyes, feeling safer in his embrace than behind the sturdiest of castle walls. The stars shone above them through the trees, the moon ominous, a warning of what was to come, a crow crying out in dismay of the things they would see. They had promised to eachother what lovers always promise, but these words were heard and declared upon a sacred tree that had not been noticed by either of them. It was heard by old Gods and new. It was written in the cold breeze, stamped upon the parchment of the night sky and sealed with kiss. 

Little did they know, their new love would be put to the hardest trial. Death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa feels that something is coming, something dark and thunderous.

The white expanse of snow was disturbed by the soft rustling of hooves, as Stranger and a chestnut mare moved along. Sandor had been momentarily stunned by the glimmering sheet before them. The grey sky cast a soft light to the cold paradise, Sansa’s gasp mirroring his awe over the sight. Since the Old Gods had heard their words, they had been inseparable.  She had insisted riding with for warmth, a wry smile twisting his lips as he settled her in front of him. They tracked down to this valley slowly, basking in each other’s presence.

He had touched her and spoken to her gently and she would smile brightly in return. Sansa was not stupid, regardless of what the Lions or the Mockingbird thought, she knew that his rough manner and anger would not fade away easily, but she would make it her goal to see a soft smile upon his features. As the days passed, something dreadful was twisting at the pit of her stomach. It would ache so, sometimes she had to stop and just breathe. Sandor would hold her and pet her hair while he tried to understand what was happening to her.

“Sansa” he would rasp softly to her hair as tears inexplicably would fall from her eyes.

“Sandor, something will happen, I don’t know what it is yet but something is coming” . He could only frown and reassure her with his touch.

Now, as they crossed the wide open blanket of white, the ache intensified. Sansa gripped his armored forearm and tensed as she heard something in the distance. Daring not to look back, Sandor hit Strangers flanks, urging him to get close to the safety of the range of trees that would hide them from whatever was behind them.

Then, he heard barking. The familiar bark of hunting dogs, they were being followed now for days and he had foolishly pushed that from his mind as his little bird was in his arms. He had done everything he could to avoid the Kings Road and tried leaving no clues as to where they had been, but now, as he heard the barking become louder, he knew he should have pushed his bird and himself  harder. As they entered the range of trees, the snow thinned slightly but the barking did not abate. Momentarily freed from the white prison, Stranger began to move as fast as he could, breathing in the fear of his master, the beast advanced as fast as it could.  As Sandor faced the impromptu road ahead, Sansa glanced behind as best she could and a dry sob escaped her. Momentarily distracted by the sound he turned as best he could, his blood freezing at the sight between the scarce branches. At the top of the field they had descended from was what he feared and hated most, The Mountain followed by an entourage of five riders.

Immediately stopping the horse’s gait, he got off and proceeded to untie the mare, carrying Sansa rapidly to seat her on it. Tears had begun to gather at the corners of her eyes in fear. “Sansa you listen to me”, he rasped as he thought of all the things he could say to her but he knew that there was no time for any of it, “You ride that mare ahead of me, don’t look back, no matter what you hear you keep riding. We are so close.  Look” he pointed ahead, and like a dream, Sansa could see the red treetops, small as dots, signaling they were close to the forest that led to Winterfell. The cold flesh of her hand touched his cheek, making his face turn to her. Her cracked dried lips fell to his hard, tears mingling with the taste of desperation. He kissed her back equally hard, a hard press of lips nothing more, and immediately walked back to his mount. A stiff nod was all the command she needed as she rode the mare in earnest, a slight sting entering her heart as she remembered how she had learned to ride, so many things he had done for her and now, time seemed to slip rapidly from their grasp. The mare ran rapidly, her long legs proving to be perfect for jumping the odd obstacle of stone and roots. After the rapid trotting, the barks seemed to recede far away, and they were met with only the chirping of birds and the sound of wind in their ears as snow began to fall softly. A sigh of relief passed Sansa’s lips as the burning in her thighs had become unbearable. Just as she was slowing her mare to a canter, a swift noise was heard beside her ear and a burning sting assaulted her senses. An arrow imbedded itself in the tree in front of her. “Sansa! Don’t stop, don’t turn, just go now!” she heard Sandor yell as the mare whinnied and obeyed the sudden fear she felt from her rider. As the seconds passed, she could see the foam falling from the mare’s mouth, white foam forming on her legs and chest.  More arrows followed her as her mare continued to run, jumping over the terrain they began to encounter. Looking slightly over her shoulder, she saw the hulking figure of Sandor following, but failed to see a rider closing in on her side.

A piercing pain shot through her back, and she cried out as she looked to her side. Her mare kept moving, as the pain spread through her back and to her chest. She felt the warm trickle of blood as her vision blurred from tears of pain. As the mare jumped over a root, she lost the reigns, choosing to grasp the mare’s coarse hair. She faintly heard a cry and the ring of a blade.

* * *

 

Time seemed to slow as he saw the rider near Sansa with his bow ready. As her cry echoed, he felt burning anger, pain shooting through his back as he saw the arrow embed itself into her flesh. He saw her falter as her mare jumped over a high root, the riders horse seemed to pause a moment, enough time for his blade to slice through the riders back, as he came up to him. The riders cry echoed in his ears, as the sweet sound of his flesh tearing sang to him. “Sansa!” he roared as he saw her cloak darken with blood. Her mare had begun to slow as she felt the approach of Stranger, gnawing impatiently at her bridle. Not knowing where they were headed, Sansa had unknowingly led them to a stone face, warm water trickling through several cracks.

Stopping completely, he jumped from his horse and ran to Sansa, lifting her from her position, prying her fingers from the rough strands. “Sansa” he pleaded as he carried her to the stone face. Sitting on a warm stone, cradled her in his arms, mindful of the arrow still in her. “Sandor, I turned  I-I” she whispered as her eyes opened slightly. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she felt blood well up in her throat. She coughed softly as blood slowly trickled from the corner of her mouth. Now, as he held her, he felt her blood staining his hands and drenching his trousers. “Little Bird, don’t speak…” he answered roughly as her hand weakly cupped his ruined cheek. “My little bird” he whispered as tears streamed down his cheeks, he knew she would not come alive from this. 

* * *

 

His hands clutched her to him, the warm blood dripping onto the soft soil. His knees held her bottom, while one arm held her shoulders, his other clutching her shoulder. Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling together.

“Thank you for saving me” she whispered as she felt her strength leave her. “Mayhap the Gods will let us dwell together”.

More snowflakes fell from above, the soft rustling of the red weir woods carrying away every ragged breath she took. He could see the rosiness of her cheeks begin to leave her. How many times had he seen the soft tint of embarrassment as he kissed her or used the course language she had gotten used to? How many times had he strived to see the shy smile or the soft gleam of her eyes as they set upon him with love?

“I’m not going where you’re going Bird” he replied. She would be gone soon, taken by the Stranger and he had no words. 

“We will Sandor”, a serene expression came to her face as she felt the snowflakes fall to her face. Her blue eyes looked into his, her hand caressing around his eyes. “I will see you soon my love” she whispered faintly.

“I love you Bir-“ and she was gone.  The light left her blue pools.

He could only stare at her small figure in his arms, the warmth of her breath no longer on his face. Her eyes had closed, her lips lifting into a soft smile as she had heard his words. For a moment nothing came from him, his mouth gaping, a deep pain settling into his throat as her pale face was framed by white flecks. A perfect goddess now lay dead in his mortal arms.

As breath reached his lungs, a loud roar mixed with a pained sob unleashed itself from his lips. Feeling the arrow, he took it out as delicately as he could, still afraid to hurt her even though she was no longer there. His hair framed his face as tears fell upon her cheeks and forehead. He sobbed her name, repeating it as if to soothe his pain. His blood stained hand caressed her soft skin, cold all of a sudden. Time passed and soon enough, dark had settled around him. The horses nickered softly as the moon shone its light. It was quite now, the trickling of water dulling his pain as he stared once more into her pale visage. A soft kiss was pressed to her cold lips, and tears fell between them once more. They felt like ice now, his hands going numb from cold blood still staining her cloke. As he stood, he faced the moon, cursing the old gods and new ones for what they had taken from him.

“Gregor will pay bird, he’ll pay” he whispered roughly as he tightened his hold on her momentarily. “Mayhaps we will see each other soon…”

Laying her momentarily upon the soft soil, he removed his cloak and set it between the roots of a large Weir wood, its blood red leaves mocking her death. Stripping her of her bloody cloak, he lay her upon his, crossing her arms peacefully upon her slight chest. He softly set the blood red leaves around her. As he turned to the tree, he saw a face carved into it, the red sap oozing from its eyes, as if pained by the dead maiden at its feet. “You should bloody well regret it, you took her from ME!” he roared to the unmoving face. As he turned, there were several weir woods with faces carved upon them. “MOCK ME! MOCKE ME WHY NOT!” he shouted furiously, “You made me love her, protect her, you gave me the sweetest taste of her and TOOK HER, she was MINE!” Falling silent for a moment he looked at the ground, his knees beginning to soak the humidity of the soil. “If you wanted blood, you should have taken mine” he whispered as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Finally, he stood and cleansed his hands in the warm pond. Looking back at her prone figure, his heart seized once more. Clenching his jaw he looked away from her, he had to repay his brother for what he had done.

Turning to Stranger, his sword fastened at his side, he mounted, running towards the field they had left behind.

“I’ll see you soon Sansa, I’ll see you soon” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY  
> I WAS SOBBING WHEN I WROTE THIS  
> BUT DON'T WORRY I'LL TAKE THE PAIN AWAY SOON.  
> I'm sorry for my mediocre writing skills, I'm still trying my shot at fanfics.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last battle of a dog.  
> A legend and a dream.

Cold, crisp wind blew through his sweat soaked tresses as he walked through the path marked by where the horses had run. Numbness settled in to the hand that carried his long sword, the heaviness of his armor wearing down his pace, he knew that his death would be at the snowy clearing they had been sighted at by Gregor and his entourage. It did not matter, not when the Little Birds corpse lay a distance back amongst the cold red leaves of her unfeeling Gods.

Riverrun had been there choice and yet she had decided to go to Winterfell instead, her brothers would be there and it was home, it was safe. They had been wrong or he had been stupidly distracted by the fanciful idea of being her lord and she his lady wife. Stupid, stupid dog. She lay cold and stiff now because of his foolishness. A harsh sobbed and moan passed his lips, momentarily crippled, holding himself up on a tree that along with more, lined the clearing. 

A large lone figure stood in it, a group of riders behind him. “Gregor” he rasped as he neared the figure. The soft snow fell mutely to the ground. As he neared him, they stared each other down, in Gregor’s hand the crossbow that had shot the fatal quarry, blood spattered on it from the rider he had slain. “Where’s the red haired cunt, pup?” asked Gregor, his voice cutting into the beautiful scenery around them. The moon shone upon them, silence stretching. “She’s gone”, he answered. Tear tracks were marked upon his face, yet none came now.

A loud booming laugh echoed in the vastness. “The pups cryin’ over the red haired cunt!” shouted Gregor to his entourage, laughs echoing back at him. Hearing his mocking laugh, awoke Sandor from his pain induced stupor. A loud roar answered back as Sandor charged towards him. Gregor barely had time to lift his sword laughing harder “Aye pup, let me skin you for one and all!” he roared back into his face. The sounds of steel upon steel were heard endlessly.

 _  
_ “You want to join her you miserable fuck!”

But it was not a question, it was a statement to which Sandor agreed. “Aye, but I’m taking you with me!!” roared The Hound as he saw a window to pierce his sword under his ribs. Gregor had always been too slow, and hardy perhaps but to this blow, full of truth, courage and pain, even the Mountain would kneel. Blood spattered onto the snowy terrain. “I’m taking you with me” grunted Sandor as he realized his brother had done the same, piercing his left side, but Sandor reacted more quickly and with a strong flick of his wrists, turned the sword further in and up.  Gregor gaped, blood filling his mouth, coughing and staring wide eyed at his brother, no words coming out. Gregor fell, but not before pulling his own sword out. A loud roar was heard from the younger Clegane. Blood spilling endlessly, yet he stood, he would not fall to his knees, not in front of the dying son of a whore. Gregor fell first, grasping the hilt and trying to pull it out, yet he choked further on his blood with the strain of pulling it out. Sandor growled, taking his dirk and grabbing the back of his brothers’ head. “See you soon brother” he rasped as he looked into Gregor’s wide eyes, a sound trying to gurgle its way out of his throat. Slowly, the dirk dug its way into his throat, Gregor’s brow furrowed, his huge paws trying to keep Sandor from digging it deeper. Desperate but weak blows to his shoulder did not deter him from seeing the life seep away from his eyes. Eyes rolled to the back of his skull, falling to the snow behind him, the sound of his armor echoing to the entourage witnessing the scene. The snowfall had stopped, the moon clear and large shining upon all.

The blood loss from his wound weakened him, falling to one knee. The entourage slowly receded, leaving the wounded and dead older Clegane to rot in the snow.  Falling to his side, Sandor looked up at the moon, and turned completely to face it. He felt like howling, yelling but his life was pouring onto the snow under him. He felt dreadfully cold, and alone. The relief brought upon killing his brother had not come, there was only bitterness, knowing he had done it for naught. A trill was heard close to his ruined ear, startling him out of his thoughts. It was a red little thing, chirping and staring into his eyes. Sandor weakly moved his arm, the little thing scattering away and he whimpered. “Sansa” he whispered as fresh tears came to his eyes. As his hand stretched out to the small bird, his palm facing up he willed to get on his hand. “Sansa, come please” he whispered, begging the dumb creature.

“Silly Hound, I’m right here”

“No, no you’re not…” he answered, “You're dead”

“You're dead” he whispered up to the moon.

His eyes began to close against his will, he no longer felt the coldness of the snow beneath him or the burn of the deep gouge under his ribs. Something warm settled into his hand, he blearily saw the red bird ruffling and resetting its feather.

“No, Sandor, you’re dead “whispered her voice back cruelly.

 

* * *

 

 

Word had returned to Kings Landing that Sansa Stark lay dead somewhere among the snowy mountains, the Lannister-sworn Hound lay not far. Close but not close enough to Winterfell. Tales had been spun that the corpse of the maiden lay there, within the circle of sacred trees, trapped in an eternal spring. When all had settled, Jon Targaryen taking the Iron Throne next to Daenarys, the white-walkers defeated and the court games and intrigue put to rest, Jon had returned to rebuild Winterfell, Bran coming back from beyond the wall wiser and Rickon stronger, they did so together. Ever since he had returned to Winterfell, Bran had been having nightmares and dreams of how Sansa had been killed, but in it was always a rider with a Dog's helm. No one had figured that the Hound had taken the Stark girl out of sincerity and chivalry, but to rape her and call her own, a fact Bran did not agree with. Some nights he would watch as the man they called the Hound, cradled his sister in his large arms, crying out and cursing to the Gods, but as much as Bran wanted to reach out and let them know he was there, he could not speak, a silent viewer of a terrible fate. After that he would see the younger Clegane bleeding out in a familiar snowy field, a red bird perched on his extended hand. 

**_They have a promise to fulfill._ **

**_A trial, A trial._ **

**_In a distant land warped by time and essence, time and essence._ **

**_They made the vows warg, they made them._ **

**_Seek her, seek him,_ **

**_and look for them._ **

He would wake, sweat drenching his dark tresses, he looked down at himself and gasped momentarily as he saw blood stains on his chest and a gaping wound on his left, under his ribs. He rolled over scared, yet felt no pain, and at once they faded. His shoulders and arms had strengthened for what his useless legs could no longer do. He sobbed as he felt the remnants of Sansa's body fade away from his touch, he had seen her dying through the eyes of that scarred bastard. The look she gave him and the words that came out of his mouth were not of a man that had raped or hurt his sister. _She had wanted to go with him!_

Several voices were heard all at once and Bran calmed long enough to try and distinguish what each one said. His hands clenched the furs, _What must I do?_ Tilting his head back, he felt something trying to enter his consciousness, something strong, just but it would not hurt him. A gasp was emitted as he saw before him visions of a world unlike his. Sansa was there, staring out from a window, a warm looking place and bright colors. Clegane was unmarred yet it was not him and it was, walking down a snowy path, loud contraptions riding near him. Coming back to his room, he cried, relief or grief washing over him. "I see..." he whispered into the empty room. He wanted to tell Jon but thought better of it. Osha and Rickon would be the best choice for now. Reaching out to the small bell at his bedside he rang it once, lightly. In a matter of minutes, two men walked in bringing in his wheeled chair and helped him sit upon it. "Call Osha and Lord Rickon", his deep voice rasped as he settled upon the chair. Nodding, they walked off. "You alright?" said Arya from the darkness of the hallway. "Yes", he answered as he put on his tunic, grabbing a leather cord and bounding his hair.

It didn't surprise him she was at once there. Ever since she had heard of their return to Winterfell, she had also returned from whenever she had come, hugged them both fiercely, wanting to shed tears yet had not. She had traced his now close shaven beard and Rickon's tattoo's, his shaven head and had grinned, the tears still in her eyes, yet, they did not fall. She had made it a habit to walk to each room, making one round and making sure they were all safe. "I can't lose you again, not again..." she had said one night Rickon had confronted her about it. Now, she slithered into his room, one hand always on  a short sword she carried with her at all times. "You'll catch a cold", she whispered as she set a warm fur across his lap. It was strange at times how she could be so listless and expressionless but then motherly all in one moment. "I still have a heart, and love for my kin..." she had said when they had asked her to reveal where she had been, "So please, do not ask, just know I won't leave again". Her hair was braided down to the center of her back. She never stopped wearing men's clothing but she had it fitted to her frame, revealing a beautiful figure, much like their mothers had been. Her face had become strong angles, her grey eyes now hardened, a strong northern woman. "I always think my Aunt Lyanna would-" "have looked like me, I know Bran, I know" she smiled as he set a hand across hers. Arya kneeled before him, "You've been having the dreams also, haven't you?" she said. "The Hound", she said with a slight huff, "he had been on my list you know?". Bran only nodded, despite her not wanting to reveal her past, she spoke of it in a stunted manner only to him and he cherished that bond they shared, that they could both dream and warg. "The dreams...they show me he held Sansa in high esteem...to high for what lowly cur he was", she whispered as she set her cheek against his knee. He only set a hand upon her head and caressed her. "You look so much like-" "Father, Jon said that also...but only because of this", he said as he traced the hair on his face. "We must do something about these dreams". Arya only nodded in agreement and walked off. "I'll be gone...not far but when the time is right I'll be back". Bran only nodded his consent. Arya had much more difficulty with her dreams, needing time to sort her thoughts out, but something had to be done soon. 

Rickon and Osha walked in, sleep still clouding their eyes. "What's this brother?" Rickon asked as he rubbed his eyes while patting the large direwolf behind him. Summer was lying passively the whole time by his feet, opening his eyes only as his brother walked in. Osha added another log to the fire, peering at the darkness outside, trying to judge the hour. "I have a story to tell...", he said as the door was closed, Osha and Rickon sat on the floor, attentive to every word he had to say. At the end of the tale, Rickon wiped a tear from his eyes, his wilding markings moving along with him. "What can we do?" rasped the youngest of the Stark children. "Save them", Osha answered as she traced Summer's snout. "Aye", Rickon said with determination, "that we must". Osha looked at Bran now, and smirked. Bran thought about how much they had all changed. Osha's once black hair had early signs of gray but she was still strong as ever, often sparring with other spearwives in the training yard. _Would Sansa and Clegane change also?_

"The time is not right yet, they will let me know...but not tonight" Bran said as he saw the blue light of dawn beginning to spread across the sky.

* * *

 

One night, Jon had been called awake by Bran’s voice, not having slept even an hour. Walking wearily to his room, he knocked. Rickon answered, gruff and staring at Jon with piercing eyes. He had changed so much, tattoos, a navy blue now, shimmering across his muscled arms elegantly. Many had gawked at the imposing figure he made with his wilding markings and hair shaved at the sides, a long braid of red falling to his waist. A stoic Osha sat at Brans side.

“Jon, I had a dream…” Bran whispered to his useless legs. Jon furrowed his brow. He was usually so strong, calm but now he looked weak, defeated and sad. How he  resembled Ned! Long hair was tethered neatly behind his head, the dark colors a contrast to the pale skin all Stark children shared.”Walking into the fire-lit room he sat in a chair next to the door, closing it softly as Rickon stood beside the fire. “What about?”

“It was a dream sent by the Old Gods. Sansa…we must find her”

“Bran, she’s gone” he said as he rubbed his callous hands together, a pain in his stomach. “I know that”, Bran angrily answered. “but she is still alive…she…is simply not here. I fear I cannot explain it, nor can I show you but we must also find the man who saved her, The Hound”. Jon sighed, what was he on about? Rickon growled in response to his sigh. “That man and her…they loved each other Jon. I don’t know why or how but the Gods told me they loved one another and swore. We must find them…or what’s left of them in this world”.

 Shaggydog scratched at the door and whined. “I’ll go”, said Rickon as he took a heavy cloak off of the bed. “I’ll come with you” Bran said. “I suppose we’re all goin’” Osha said as she helped Rickon into the wheeled chair. 

 It was hard to trek with Bran into the dense woods but Rickon suggested they tie him to Shaggydog, the wolf eerily calm as they did so. "Should've brought Summer with you", grunted Rickon. "No, Shaggydog is enough", answered Bran calmly, nodding his thanks. Summer had been hurt once, and since then had refused to use him as often, but for now Shaggydog would suffice. “I know where they each lay, not far from each other” Bran whispered as he began to warg and led them through Shaggydog. It seemed as if hours had passed, but dawn was still far off.  Seasons had left the snowy plain in which Clegane had died with layers of mud and grass.  Looking at it, it had nothing special at all. Returning once more to his own, Bran pointed at the far left of the plane. Rickon smirked at what they saw. An almost imperceptible line of mushrooms and small flowers made a path towards the center of the clearing, were it any other party looking upon it, it would not be seen and completely ignored by others. “For fucks sake…” murmured Rickon as he followed the path, leaving a suspicious Jon and the quiet pair of Osha and Bran behind. When the trail ended, there was a large bare patch. “We must dig” said Bran. “Aye, wit what little lord?” Osha whispered the endearment as if no time had passed. He was a man now and yet he did not mind. Jon was cold, exasperated and did not want to go back. “It’s not too deep…at least to what we have to reach”.

They put their hands into the soil, Bran overlooking their progress. How long had it been? Some years…but not too many, surely they would find the corpse still.

“Bloody hell!”

“Fuck!”

“AH!” was heard from the three. There, in the ditch they had made, a hand lay, cold to the touch but whole. “No…it, it can’t be” Jon whispered as he sat back. “What are you waiting for? Dig please” Bran begged from his perch, his eyes shining with sandness. “Why Bran, why?” Jon asked as his hands pressed the cold wet dirt beneath his palms. “We can bring them back, it must be both of them, it must, I cannot explain it Jon but they must be put to rest together”. Bran answered urgently.

The digging continued downwards, in direction of where they imagined the feet lay. Not wanting to see what death had done to his face, not yet. As the night progressed, the moon shining as bright as the day the corpse had been laid to rest, they could not stop now. Revealing the body’s stomach it was full, the skin intact along with the rest of him. “What sort of magic is this?” Jon asked as he found that no foul smell was coming from the corpse. The hours later, the body of the one they called Hound was completely uncovered. They discovered the gouge, no longer seeping but not closed either. It was as if it had been frozen but not by ice…by time? Osha touched the skin of his face. It was not pliable but not set either. "Work of the gods", she whispered as she admired the corpse. "Been a long time and still not a damn speck of rot on him". "This is like something out of a bloody folktale", Rickon said as he kept poking at the full muscled arm of the man. "Whitewalkers, dragons, wargs and direwolves", Jon chuckled, clasping a hand on his shoulder, "And still hard to believe this could happen", he stated as they looked on. “Any moment now the bastard’s gonna open his eyes” said Rickon as they all stared down at him. It looked that way but the gray opaque color of his skin let them know that was not going to happen any soon. “But look”, said Jon as he took the Hounds hair and the hand, the nails having grown. “We must find Sansa now” said Bran with more confidence upon seeing that what the Gods had said in his dream was true. Dragging the heavy body, between the three of them, they managed to set it upon Shaggydog, who growled low. “Oy, it won’t be long now brother”, huffed Rickon.

Once more Bran led them into the forest, a path once more formed by small mushrooms and blooms. An eroded stone face trickling with water, near stopped them but they continued only to stop once more. A circle of red weirwood with carved faces upon them looked toward the center. There, under layers of red leaves was a figure. “Jon…”, whispered Bran as he held out his hand. “I can’t” he whispered pleadingly, his eyes filling with tears. None moved except Shaggydog. “No, no Shaggydog” said Bran as he pulled his fur, but the wolf did not stop until it’s front paws touched the outline of the figure. His nose and muzzle moved the leaves around to reveal an elbow, clad in a brown cloth. Sensing that he had found her they gathered beside the direwolf, it’s inquisitive nose stopping and waiting for his brothers command. Osha leaned down and began to move leaves and dirt aside to reveal a shoulder and soon a delicate arm set upon a delicate chest. A sense of urgency stronger than when the Hound was found reached the three of them. Jon was the one that uncovered her face and a sob was heard. They all looked up at he was holding her pliant yet cold body. Her hair was long, the hands upon her chest also having long nails. Her porcelain features were set calmly, a patch of blood not wet yet not dry bloomed on her chest. There was a slight curve to her lips as if she “was smiling…” said Osha as she traced the Lady’s hair. Jon touched his forehead to Sansa, while Rickon touched a dainty leg and held her cold hand. “Get Clegane’s body down and set them near each other…we must cleanse them…there is something I have not explained and I fear ALL should be present” Bran said firmly into the clearing. A shadow neared them, “Why didn’t you say you were here”, whispered Bran to his side. “I didn’t want to”, Arya remarked indifferently. As she gazed down upon her sister's body she leant down and put a soft kiss upon her brow, “Sansa…” she whispered. Taking Jon’s place as she held her.  Jon, Osha and Rickon set about getting Cleganes body down from Shaggydog as well as Bran. Setting him upon a nearby stone, he also touched Sansa’s hand. Sniffs and coughs were heard as they removed the leaves from around Sansa, cleaning both the bodys as best they could, removing the armor from Clegane. "Not one day has passed over has it?" asked Arya as she traced the freckles on her sister's cheeks, but she had spoken mostly to herself as no one answered. What would she be like if she was alive? Would she have become the Lady of Winterfell instead of Bran? or would she have perished anyway? 

“Now what?” asked Arya, a hopeful tone in her voice.

“She’s not clean enough” whispered Rickon as he took a strand of muddy hair from Sansa’s clear face. “For now, we leave, and return at dawn”, Bran said as he set Sansa's hand down gently as best he could.

As the group left the circle of weirwood trees, Arya looked back at the corpses—yet they weren’t. “I’ll catch up”, she added as Jon turned to her quizzically. They kept walking at a slow pace, each thinking deeply about what they had just seen and been a part of. Arya, walked slowly to the pair set next to each other. “Sansa…I saw it in my dreams too, what you said to the dog and what he said to you…how you…” she stopped and crouched between them. A small space had been left between their bodies. Setting herself on her knees at the height of their shoulders, she took Sansa’s hand and her knife. A small pinprick was made on a finger, yet nothing came out. A tear fell down one cheek, but she wiped it hastily, setting the small knife in her boot once more. “What would mother have said?” she whispered, “It doesn’t matter now, she’s dead and”, _so are you_ , she finished in her head but did not believe it with the conviction she should. Looking at her hand once more, an idea struck her and she pulled the dagger once more. She groomed her hands, “You’re supposed to look pretty San”, she whispered as she slowly but meticulously cut the long nails. How was it that she still managed to look older and more regal, even though she was like this? She looked a lot like their mother. Soft freckles framed her face, caught in a time between woman and child. 

Turning to Clegane, his form now unclad from the heavy armor, she smirked. _Be good to her dog, wherever you’re at._

Leaving behind the clearing, Arya thought she heard someone whisper her name. Having had enough of this bloody magic for one night, she returned to Winterfell.

The wind seemed to be filled with hope, somewhere far away and in a different time, two lovers had to find their way to each other, a trial sent by the Old Gods to prove their love true.

A promised that had to be kept.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my this was an eeeemotional chapter I wasn't ready for or maybe I was.  
> idk  
> constructive criticism please.  
> Timeline is a bit wonky but I aged them all up in this story. There appearances are mash up of both the TV show as well as the books. Bran favoring his father, while Rickon favors his mother.  
> Rickon is about 18  
> Bran 20  
> Arya 21  
> Jon 25


	4. Trials Upon Trials (part 1 )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having discovered the bodies of Sansa Stark and The Hound, Bran must announce the hardest part of this whole ordeal: the retrieval of the destined pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT SHORT I KNOW BUT WILL UPDATE THE SECOND PART SOON
> 
> It was interesting for me to start writing this and more so where this is going. I have a little trail of sticky notes on a board telling me where to take this. Reviews and words of encouragement reaaally help me and inspire me to move forward with this so please be kind and leave a comment. Well, enough of my droll blabber, on with the show!

Chapter 4 

Trials Upon Trials 

 

> **_In a land warped by time and essence_**  

"What the seven hells does that mean?", Bran whispered once more as he set aside letters and parchments. It had been not but a night since they had set the bodies of Sandor Clegane and his sister together in the clearing surrounded by the faces of the Old Gods. The riddle so far had been unraveled and he was able to do as they had instructed for now, but the question was, how to retrieve them. The rest of his day passed by uneventfully, and most of the group that had seen what had happened confined themselves to their rooms. All at once it seemed they were all drawn to the solar in Arya's department, setting themselves by the warm fire as the sun began to set. Rickon was carving a direwolf figure while laying on Shaggydog, lost in deep thought as he whittled it close to breaking off a leg. Arya was sitting with her legs crossed, twirling a small dagger in her hands while looking at the fire. Jon, was the last to arrive. Bran sat beside the fire just as Arya, albeit properly in a chair while writing his thoughts down on a piece of parchment. "I haven't been able to sleep or give this matter rest", Jon said into the room as he closed the door. "No one has Jon", Rickon said as he threw the little scrolls of wood into the fire. "What are you writing Bran?" asked Jon as he patted Arya's shoulder. "Look here", Bran said as he pointed the piece of parchment toward Jon, "This is what I heard two nights before I called you all to meet and do as I was instructed..." Jon nodded as he began to read and pointed at a phrase, "In a land warped by time and essence? I suppose that would mean they are not in this world?". After much debating over the phrase they all drew one conclusion, it had to be the future or a world like theirs except not the same. "It's quite confusin'", said Osha as she mended some of Rickon's clothing. "Aye, but then again what about this whole damned thing ain't?" said Rickon as some of the drawl he had acquired from Skagos escaped him. "This is the part I do not understand", said Arya as she traced the phrase below:

> **_Seek her, seek him,_ **
> 
> **_and look for them._ **
> 
>  

"We did just that and nothing has happened", her eyes widened, "Nothing that we haven't seen, we haven't been there in a whole night and day..." she said as she looked out the window, the stars twinkling mischievously. Arya had often tried herself to speak to the Gods after that night, she had heard her voice being called and had ignored it. Perhaps now, they were punishing her for not paying attention when they called, yet she knew because of what she had done she perhaps was not quite suited as Bran perhaps. No doubt, of all of them she had been the one that had gotten on their blacklist. She had not killed out of need or in defense but because she desired to. She had delved in magic and things she knew perhaps went against what the Old Gods and New purposed, but at the time where hatred and anger filled her, she cared very little for the Gods that she thought had forsaken her. The night she dram her family was together again, she knew they had not forgotten her completely. It was at times difficult to grasp that everything that has transpired was now over and she felt doubt creep in at night, when she felt everyone was at their most vulnerable, so she had taken to making rounds and making sure everyone was safe and in their bed. She remembered that whenever their mother knew they were sick, she would drop in at night and check on all of her children, even if the others were healthy. She had tried to shed the bothersome habit but it was impossible. She wasn't a child anymore and she could fight back. 

Often times, she would gaze at the "new" Winterfell. It had suffered plenty of damage but the structure was all the same. What had been hers and Sansas rooms were now torn apart and had been reconstructed into a different set of rooms, but the corridor that used to lead to those rooms stayed the same. Guilt was all she carried now from her encounters with her. Had she been kinder things perhaps would have been different. She attributed her early maturity to constantly seeing and hearing things, overall having a better vision of what the world truly was. Sansa had only wanted to please their mother, be the perfect lady and she had succeeded to a certain degree. She knew Sansa has survived that long because despite looking dim witted and at times silly, beneath that soft countenance lay her own brand of armor, made of opportune sentences and eloquent speech. There was a reason she had not been outright killed before. It came as a surprise then when in these visions and dreams, Sansa was sitting, smiling and caressing The Hound. She could see the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her, like a child when he sees a firefly for the first time, or a starved man finally eating a delicious meal. It was not a hunger, although it was present but not the foremost of what one could see. When she had seen their bodies together, something had clicked. She remembered how Gendry could bring out her tender affections, gruff as they were, so she knew what the Hound must have felt, and in that moment felt sorry for both of them. 

* * *

 

  "We have to go back", said Bran as he began to ring his bell, the manservants coming in with his wheeled chair. Something inside of Arya seemed to pull, a voice, making her sit very still. Her body began to feel the same as when she warged, except this time it was a smooth transition, as if someone was guiding her. A gasp escaped her lips as he dagger in her hands dropped. 

**You must seek them child**

**Yes, cunning and quick as a shadow**

**In a land warped by time and essence**

**Find them.**

"Arya?" Jon said as he saw her keep still in her place.  Shaggydog neared her face, intently staring into her eyes. "Oy brother, whats wrong?" Rickon said as they neared Arya's still form. "Don't touch her" whispered Bran, everyone tense in the room, standing in line as they had headed for the door. "She's seeing something," Bran smirked as he heard her gasps. Everyone froze as they heard her speak, despite her eyes having gone blank. Tears slipped down her cheeks , "Bran I see her, she's happy" Arya sobbed slightly as her brows creased. "I don't see Clegane but I see her and time has passed her in that world, she is a woman full grown Bran", they all stared in awe, her voice had never held such emotion and her eyes had never shed a tear in their presence. All feeling seemed to come into her body at once "NO!" she shouted. She trembled, wiping away the tears from her face. "No..." she whispered in a quieter tone as Shaggydog licked her face, Jon setting a hand to her back. "They spoke to me, they said I had to seek them", she shared as her hands grasped Shaggydog's fur. Standing on shaky legs she walked towards the door, the direwolf never leaving her side. "How?", Bran asked as they went down a ramp that lead to the main hall. "I don't know yet but the told me to go look for them...that I was cunning and quick as a shadow...something of the sort", she answered as they kept walking toward the courtyard.

"Wait", whispered Bran as Summer neared from the shadows. "I won't go but Summer will, I'll be there" he said sadly as he looked at his useless legs. "Bran..." Jon said as he set a hand on his shoulder. "I feel we all should stay except you Arya...you must go...what will happen next...I feel something is going to happen that we must not witness." Bran said with firmness as he stared at Jon, Osha and Rickon. "This is something I feel is for your eyes only". Arya nodded,  " I don't want to say goodbye and I wont but I will be back and I will bring them, I will" she said into the circle they had created before the gates.  Silence stretched on, a final gathering of them all, or so it felt. Undaunted by the dark forrest ahead she walked with Summer and Shaggydog by her side. 

The path seemed cleaner, as if the debris of customary leaves had been swept away so she could not get lost, but the trail was now embedded in her memory, not easily lost the winding roads and lines of dirt. 

Finally, she was near the sight, and the bodies lay there just as they had before, but something was there, that hadn't been there. The weirwood that was rooted nearest to them, was there as if watching over them. The direwolves stood at the edge of the clearing, not daring to step forward, nor Bran for that matter, for he was looking through Summer's eyes. 

The weirwood had a hollow and yet it was oh so dark, as if something deeper was within it. 

Arya looked down at the bodies of her sister and the man she loved, and smiled. 


	5. Trials Upon Trials (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Arya supposed to do now?

Chapter 5

Trials Upon Trials 

 

Arya stretched out a hand into the abyss that seemed ensconced inside the twisted bark of the weirwood. Trepidation, nerves and excitement seemed to settle down in the pit of her stomach. What was she to do now? It was a question that she knew the answer to yet did not want to enact. Before taking a step further, she looked back to the bodies. Going back to them she noticed a vast difference from where they were found. The leaves around them had been swept aside gently. Arya tried finding who had done this but no clear trace surrounded them. The weirwood that had "walked" to be before them loomed a protective shield, thin moonbeams falling onto them. Their skin seemed to be a shade lighter than they had been. The clearing was quieter than any other place she had been to, it seemed as if all the carved faces around her were about to breathe, but held it in. 

"Sansa...I will find you and bring you back, I will find a way I promise. I am not sure where I am supposed to go", she said whispering the last part as she twisted a right hand around the pommel of the short sword at her side. Kneeling beside Sansas body, she took a hand tentatively and her eyes widened. There was an almost imperceptible warmth in her palm, it was not difficult to miss for her, she had become familiar with what the cold grip of death could do to a body.  Covering her chest lightly with her head, she waited. Her eyes widened and she turned to look at Bran through Summer's eyes. "Her heart Bran, it is beating...slowly but it is beating..." she said as low as she could, she felt as if she whispered any louder they would possibly wake up from their peaceful slumber. Moving over to Clegane, she took his long hair and cut it to his shoulders, "I have a feeling they'll want to wed upon their return..." she said as a form of explanation to a now sitting Summer. Taking his hands, she cut his long nails as close she could with her dagger and sheathed it once more in her boot. 

" _Arya...go child, you have waited long enough_ ", said whispering voices as a soft breeze seem to push her towards the hollow. Smiling slightly, she turned to Summer and Shaggydog. "I'll go now", she said as she kissed their muzzles and ruffled their fur. 

Nearing the large hole inside of the weirwood, she felt a tug in her boot and belt, shoes and coat. "I see..." she said to whoever or whatever was hearing. Slowly she set her sword belt and daggers onto a nearby rock, hung her coat onto a nearby los brance and took off her shoes. Something from the roots seemed to charge her with a newfound feeling, a feeling she had long lost. Innocence, wonderment, excitement, all feelings she had thought lost upon entering the threshold of being a woman, and a killer. Turning to Summer, she did something that made him howl in excitement and yelp. She made a sound that got him running from side to side.

Looking at the dark abyss inside of the hollow, just one step away, it suddenly became wider and she felt herself fall in involuntarily. As much as the feeling was dreadful, she did not let out a sound. Reaching her hands out to try and grab onto some kind of edge, she felt the whistling wind slap her hands away gently, as if her mother was scolding her for being afraid. Tears came to her eyes as the wind rushed to her face from her fall.  She felt the feeling in her stomach become stronger, darkness all around her, but nearing the bottom was a soft white light. It was too bright! Then she seemed to come to a halt. She dare not open her eyes, not yet. 

Then, a pain shot through her head, as if it was being split in two, and then, darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Bran howled through Summer as he saw Arya disappear. He began to yelp in excitement at the site before him. The weirwood were shifting! It seemed as if they were pliable by the breeze rustling through the woods, but clear as day they creeped closer around the corpses, shielding them away from the world, but just so, to let a small amount of people into the clearing. He ran back to Winterfell as fast as Summer's large paws could carry him, Shaggydog yelping in excitement as they weaved happily and joyfully through the forest. Upon seeing the gates of Winterfell, Bran came to in his body. "She smiled!" he said bewilderment as Rickon, Jon and Osha turned to look at him. "Who?" said Jon as his brow creased in confusion. The trio had not moved from their spots, except a shift of position here in there. They had waited for Bran's return and felt rejuvenated as he smiled enormously, the grin on his face shining brighter than the moon above them. "Arya! Oh Jon she looked as mischievous as she did when were children! She said she'd bring them back, and tidied Clegane! "They'll wed upon their return" she said as she tidied him!" Bran was met with confused but excited looks all around. "She went into a weirwood and disappeared, she fell in but I heard no yell and I swear that the hollow in that tree was deeper than any well man can dig!". Rickon received Shaggydog's bulk as he came in bounding with Summer in tow. "Oy brother what's gotten into ya?" he said as he scratched the coarse fur under his jaw. "That's my fault", Bran answered smiling, "I got overly excited". 

"So Arya is gone?" Jon asked for clarification. "Yes, yes she is but she is going to be alright I know it! I think...", paused Bran as Summer neared him and gingerly set his large head on his lap, "I think Arya will find more than just Sansa and Clegane...her eyes have looked strange when she came back to us".  " I know", replied Jon, "As if she wasn't here, dead almost, cold". Bran nodded, "I think she needs to also find herself...whatever they did to her in that place she seldom speaks about, it made her change into something...something she was never meant to be but had to become". 

A peaceful silence stretched out as a dozen questions seemed to buzz in each of their heads, but time had answered many of their prayers and questions, and it would do the same to this matter as well. 

"We ought to go back in, I feel we must prepare certain rooms...and above all, the townsfolk", said Jon as they went back to the castle. Rickon stopped at this, "Yer bleedin' mad Jon", he said as he kept one hand on Shaggydog's back, "Naught but a few days ago we were digging up Clegane's corpse and not being very convinced of what Bran had to say 'bout that! Ye think the townsfolk are gonna believe any of it?". Jon turned slightly, "What do you think they'll say when they see Clegane and Sansa walking around here? The reports were official as to their deaths, what of Sansa's age? If she returns in the body that was left here, what do you think they'll say?" he reasoned with him.

"Aye, the folk round here have had enough of magic and whatnot, better just tell 'em the truth" Osha said. Jon smirked at her outward ways, were it a western court she would have been silenced, but Ned had taught them the importance of listening to the people they ruled, the freefolk were not under their rule per say but were supporters of the North, and Osha had been an important bridge for that alliance to come about. "I say we wait until their return, The Gods...they do bless freely I think, but there must be a condition somehow to this whole endeavor...but we shall see, waiting is the best we can do," he turned to look pointedly at Jon this time, "and you best return to your wife Jon, she may be barren but I feel she misses you". Jon only blushed and gave a hearty smack to Brans broad back.  

As they each retired to their own rooms, they all looked upon the moon, a smile upon their faces. They would soon be witnesses to the mercy of The Old Gods. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT SHORT SHORT I KNOW BUT THE NEXT CHAPTER STARTS THE GOODIES!!!  
> I think I updated a lot sooner than other times!  
> Remember that reviews and comments fuel this story so please be kind and leave a review!  
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> I had wanted to do a reincarnation fic with these two for a long time now. And so I am now doing that :v  
> Constructive criticism please. :) Thank you for reading.


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